


Whiskey For Two

by CrackingLamb



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Body Shots, Citadel DLC, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Swearing, alcohol use, if you're reading this anywhere other than ao3 it's been stolen, please report it thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: Can turians even do shots?Vega wants to know.Maybe it's time Garrus found out.





	Whiskey For Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iron_Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/gifts).

> Without you, this fic would never have existed.

It started out innocently, she'd remember that part later on. There had been drinking, dancing and a group holo. There had been friendly biotic competition – from which she'd abstained, as their Commander – and dirty jokes told behind hands with giggles and glee. There'd been drunken plans to boobytrap the place between Zaeed and Garrus over which she'd shamelessly eavesdropped. And then...

“Hey, Scars, you turians got any drinking games? Ya know, with like, women?”

Garrus swiveled his head to look at James. A few of the crew had put together a poker game. She didn't even know Garrus played. Shepard knew she should put a stop to where James was going even before it began, but the looming presence of what they were headed towards stopped her. This might be the last time she saw all of these people breathing the same air. It might be the last time she saw them breathing.

“I'm not sure what you mean, Vega,” Garrus said.

“Wait...can turians even _do_ shots?”

“James...” she warned. He grinned at her, wide and guileless. She shook her head and gave in. She could sacrifice her dutiful military principles for one night.

“Ooh,” Jack said, hanging over the edge of the table she'd been lounging on all night. “I know this one.”

“You game?” James asked her. Shepard wondered just how much he'd had to drink, if he was bold enough to ask Jack such a thing.

“Show me what you got, big guy,” the petite biotic taunted, before laying flat on the table. James tossed down his hand and made a show of standing up with a bottle of...something, intent on find a shot glass.

With much more precision than she would have expected, considering his state of inebriation, James balanced the shot glass perfectly on Jack's exposed belly. The others gave up any pretense of playing cards and watched. Garrus stood next to Shepard, exchanging a glance with her before he went back to seeing exactly what James had meant. The burly man bent over and sucked up the small glass, throwing his head back to swallow the shot all in one motion. The others cheered.

“You're doing it wrong,” Shepard said, before she even knew she was going to. _Where on earth did that come from? _James looked at her sideways, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, Lola?”

“Well, for one thing, you used a glass.” _Shut up, Shepard_, she chided internally.

He grinned at her, and she knew then it had all been a set up. He was going to dare her to do it, now. And dare Garrus to take the shot. And she'd walked right into it. Oh, it wasn't that she minded particularly. Everyone knew at this point that she and Garrus were committed to each other. But she did still have a shred of dignity to preserve as their commanding officer.

“I'll do it,” Miranda said suddenly. Even Jack half sat up to look at her. The former Cerberus agent was smug as she took the bottle from James, her expression daring Jack to stop her. Jack lay back and glared. Miranda poured a small amount of the clear alcohol on her stomach and bent over to drink it up before a single drop had rolled across Jack's skin. There was silence except for the music playing in the other room.

“Anyone else?” Jack asked, sounding a bit strained.

“We need some equality here. Any of you boys going to get on the table?” Samantha asked crisply. Shepard silently praised her.

“Not it,” Wrex said, provoking some chuckles.

“Hey, James, you can dish it, but can you take it?” Shepard drawled, smiling as the others laughed. She could see in his face that he knew it was payback for starting it.

“All right, you're on.” He pulled off his shirt and waved Jack to move so he could lay on the side table. “Only question is, how many are linin' up for it?”

Samantha seemed to have lost her nerve after tossing out the equality gauntlet, but Shepard saw Ash stand up from the sofa and saunter into the room. She smiled to herself. That was one she would never have pegged for being so obvious. Ash took the bottle from Miranda's hand and paused to look James over from head to toe. He grinned and tucked his hands behind his head, flexing the abundant muscles of his gut into high definition.

“Stop showing off, Vega,” Shepard teased.

Ashley poured the liquor and James jumped. “Shit, it's cold.”

Jack snorted.

Ash leaned over and drank up the shot, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary. Shepard smiled and turned to Garrus.

“Let's leave them to it, shall we?”

“Escaping before they get you up there?” he murmured. She raised a brow at him and walked off towards the bar to select something they could both drink. She passed Javik, now alone on the sofa, watching the proceedings.

“Primitives,” he grumbled. “This is no fit behavior for soldiers.”

“Maybe not, Javik. But it's fun. Didn't Protheans have fun?” He glared at her with all four eyes. She tutted and patted his shoulder. “Any relief of stress before a fight like this is good, you know. You should try it.”

“I am not so lacking in discipline that I need...”

“Go talk to Liara, Javik. The fate of the galaxy can wait a few hours,” she whispered, leaning over him and pointing at the asari who stood at the edges of the group. Javik glared at her again, but this time it seemed to be more because she'd noticed his reluctant interest in the Prothean expert, rather than any suggestion that he should loosen up.

Garrus followed her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. “That was smooth, Shepard.”

“He needed the kick. They may both live for fucking ever, but that doesn't mean they'll have the time to.”

“Speaking of time wasting...” He tugged her into his arms, touching their foreheads together. “What shall we do with ours?”

She brandished the bottle of triple distilled whiskey and just smiled. Garrus laughed, stepping back from her and watching her strip out of her hoodie and tank top, leaving her in her pants and bra. She handed him the bottle and took her pants off too, turning her back to walk to the bed, putting a little extra sway in her hips as she did. Humans might not have all the right proportions for turians, but she knew how to make the most of what she had.

She heard him make a low noise, almost a growl, behind her and looked over her shoulder at him. “Coming?”

“Not yet, but I'm sure we'll get there,” he said, stepping up behind her. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy watching your six?”

“You have, but I don't mind hearing it again,” she replied, her voice turning husky as he ran his talons over her bare skin. He had learned how to put just enough pressure behind it so he didn't scratch, but he didn't tickle either.

She turned and laid back on the bed, propped on her elbows to watch him undress. It wasn't as simple for him to shed his clothes as it was for her. There were spurs and elongated joints to consider, as well as tight fitting collars around his cowl and keelbone. Made her wonder if stripping for the pleasure of seeing it was even a turian turn on, or if he'd just picked it up from her.

“You know, Shepard,” he said, crawling over her, the bottle still clutched in his hand, “I don't have a belly button.”

“I know. I'll have to get creative when it's my turn.” She reached up to lift his visor off his face, but he leaned back, out of her reach.

“Oh no, I think I'm going to want to keep this.”

She aimed a saucy look at him. “Are you recording this, Vakarian? I better not see it on the extranet.”

He grinned, his mandibles flaring wide. “Consider it personal research.”

“Uh huh.”

“Besides, who says you're going to get a turn? I might need a lot of...practice.” He ran his tongue down the length of her throat and across a collarbone, stealing what breath she had and emptying her mind of a proper response. Chuckling, he sat up to uncap the bottle and pushed her back so she was flat. “Now, don't move too much. We don't want to make a complete mess of the bed.”

“At least, not with good whiskey,” she retorted, her whole body already attuned to his every motion as she waited. He poured a small amount in her navel and contemplated it. She held herself as still as she could, the anticipation making her want to shiver. She'd be the first to say she didn't usually engage in this sort of thing, but it was different with a beloved partner. She closed her eyes and waited.

Turians didn't have lips, this was true. It was hard enough for Garrus to force his mouthplates into something resembling them when they kissed. He wasn't going to be able to create suction on her skin to drink up the shot, but as soon as his mandibles brushed her skin, she found that she didn't care. The liquor was cool on her skin, but his breath was heated. The mix was nearly as intoxicating as the drink would be. And she knew he was teasing her, stretching out the moment as long as she could stand it. He was good at that.

“Garrus...”

“Hush.”

She wished she could see him, wished she could watch as his jaws opened up and his deadly mouth touched her. His plates were warm and solid against her skin, and his tongue was hot as he lapped at the shot rather than sipping it up all at once. Her breath released in a gasp and he chuckled in the back of his throat, hearing it. He didn't stop at her belly button, but worked his way up her torso with his mouth, stopping only when he came to the band of her bra.

“My turn?” she asked.

“I don't think so. Roll over.” She cocked her head at him curiously, but he just looked at her with that gleam in his eye that told her he was having ideas. She rolled onto her stomach, sticking to the covers where her skin was wet and lay her head on her crossed arms. “Bend your leg,” he ordered, holding her ankle and raising her calf himself. What was he up to?

He poured whiskey into the hollow the back of her knee made and she hissed, caught between surprise and pleasure. She couldn't imagine the angle he'd have to turn his head to reach...

His agile tongue tickled the back of her leg and she squirmed, feeling the whiskey run down the side of her knee. Garrus planted one hand on the small of her back, holding her in place and went back to the shot he'd poured. There was a slurping noise that made her giggle before she gasped as he licked her clean as he had before.

“One more,” he murmured, trailing his hand away from her back, tugging on the band of her underwear until it sat on the crest of her backside. He leaned over her, his heat radiating against her. “Arch your back,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. She lifted her hips, curving her spine, and felt the whiskey spill into the small of her back. “Now, stay there.”

She felt him shifting around, his legs coming to rest on either side of hers. He put his hands on her hips and lowered his face to her back, sipping up the whiskey as slowly as he could. She wanted to move, to arch more into his touch, to writhe. She was burning up inside and prickles of sweat broke out between her shoulder blades from it. He lapped up all the liquor and continued up her back, as he had on her front, licking up the sweat as well and humming under his breath. There was something primally exciting about having him behind her, where she couldn't see him. She knew she was panting and he'd barely touched her in any of the places that might make her do so.

“Garrus...please...”

He slipped her underwear off her ass and pushed it down her legs, leaving her naked and exposed. She felt his erection thump against her backside as it unsheathed fully from behind his groin plates. She arched further, lifting her hips completely clear of the bed, bending her knees so she backed up against him more fully. His hands spread across the expanse of her back, his triple digits no longer a source of strangeness to her. She felt him catch on her bra band and then the hooks gave way, making the straps fall off her shoulders. He pulled her closer still, slipping between her legs from behind, rubbing against her, the ridges on his cock hitting her clit in rhythmic succession.

She whined, she heard it plainly. He took pity on her, driving into her. She was slick and ready, welcoming his intrusion. Her fingers curled into the bed spread, white knuckled and clenching. She clenched down on his buried cock too, forcing a groan out of him. He pulsed inside her as he sank deeper, until he bottomed out, hitting a spot that made tingles start at her scalp and race down the length of her spine. Slowly, oh so slowly he dragged back out and she pushed back into him, practically sitting in his lap, chasing the feeling of him filling her.

Over and over he stroked her, gentle and deep, wringing moans and breathless gasps from her. It wasn't enough, wouldn't tumble her over the edge of climax, but it felt so good she never wanted it to end. He drew her torso up, so she was balanced on her fists. His primary finger ran along the line of her hip towards her center, threading down until he reached her clit, circling and teasing it, never precisely hitting the spot that made her go so wild. Until finally he pressed directly against it, gauging accurately just how much she could stand before it got frustrating. She gave a muffled shout, rocking into his thrusts, pinned by a single talon and aching for release. He pulsed his finger against her as he stroked in and out of her and the combination was enough to drive her blindly over the edge.

She came so hard she couldn't breathe, couldn't cry out. The spasms of her inner muscles drove him higher too, and he thrust into her with more vigor, going deeper, hitting that spot inside her that drove her climax higher, drawing it out until she was helplessly sobbing against the inside of her arm so the sound didn't carry to the party.

“I want to see you,” he rumbled into her ear, withdrawing from her body so she could turn around. She was coming down from the high of her orgasm, and her brain began to function again. She grabbed a thick pillow from the head of the bed and stuffed it behind him, pushing him backwards onto it so his crest cleared the sheets.

“Now, it's my turn,” she said, taking the bottle from the side table where he'd put it. She straddled him, sliding back onto his cock. He pulled her bra off her arms and tossed it away, watching the way her breasts swayed. His hands ended up on her hips, guiding her in small movements, no hurry or urgency. She leaned over his keel, dribbling the whiskey between his plates, watching the rivulets run across the softer skin there. She was momentarily distracted as he switched his grip to her ass, holding her open on him, dipping only a few inches into her body at a time. Her mind went a little blank at the feeling, full but unable to thrust herself on him the way she wanted. It was dizzying. “You're cheating,” she managed to say.

“Is there a winner to this game?” he asked archly, supremely in control of himself. There was a challenging gleam in his eye and she smiled, dribbling more liquor over him. She propped the bottle against his side so it didn't tip over and followed the path the whiskey had taken with her tongue, sucking up the droplets and his skin simultaneously. He grunted, shocked into plunging fully into her and she threw back her head as the pleasure hit so hard she had to take a second to enjoy it.

She worked her way across both pectoral plates and every inch of skin between, tasting both the whiskey and his unique flavor. Spice and leather, metal and sweat. His hands were urging her on, lifting and dropping her hips from their vantage point on the back of her ass, slowly building up speed as the intensity began to override his desire to draw it out longer. She was building up too, and shifted so that she was sitting up higher on him, leaning back to balance with her hands on his thighs. He lifted his hips into her now with each thrust, and she rode the wave of her climax with her head tipped back, her eyes blind to the room around her. She couldn't help the cry that escaped her, and hoped no one out at the party was paying any attention.

Garrus pumped into her now with abandon, chasing down his own release. She stayed propped up against his legs, watching the change come over his face as he climaxed inside her. He growled low and rumbling, his subvocals vibrating through them both. At last he stilled within her, slowly receding from her, back behind his groin plates. She leaned down on his keel, thoroughly sated and exhausted. She knew they should probably shower and change the bedspread at the very least, but right then she didn't care.

“So...” Garrus said, once his heartbeat had slowed under her ear. “Is _that_ a normal drinking game among humans?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Good. Then it's only ours.”

“Only with the good whiskey,” she mumbled, making him laugh.

“Definitely.”


End file.
